


Absence Makes the Heart Get Pissed Off

by TheObsessedAuthor



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: It's always Fury's fault, M/M, Post-Avengers, Swearing, sorry about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheObsessedAuthor/pseuds/TheObsessedAuthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson returns, and Clint isn't happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absence Makes the Heart Get Pissed Off

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first work, so I'd love any comments about how to make it better!

     Clint slammed a hand down on the coffee table so hard the cups rattled. Phil Coulson, seated calmly in the chair opposite the enraged agent, watched him.

     "You... you couldn't even... couldn't you _call_? Or even, I don't know, TEXT me, or something?" Clint ran a hand through his hair and stood so quickly the remains of his scotch tipped over, flooding the expensive wooden tabletop. "Shitshit _shit_. Tony's gonna kill me."

     "No worries." Phil produced a handkerchief out of nowhere- _my God, I thought only Steve carried handkerchiefs anymore, where did he even get that from, that man has magical hands_ \- and mopped up the alcohol. Then he tucked the kerchief neatly into some invisible pocket and leaned back into the couch.

     "Yeah, sure," Clint muttered. "No worries. Next time I get stabbed i'll go _swanning off_ and see how _you_ like it."

     "Swanning off?"

     "I don't know!" Clint threw his hands up and fell back into his own seat, wincing as he jarred his cast.

     Phil noticed the incremental shift in his features as he hid the pain. Phil noticed everything. "How's the arm?"

     "Better. Itchy," Clint murmured.

     "You shouldn't snap at Natasha, you know."

     "Duh, I know that," Clint snarled. "She just reinforced it."

     "With her fist."

     Clint growled at Phil, who remained poker faced. Then he stood- careful not to jar the coffee table again- and walked over to the wounded assassain. Clint grumbled but moved over slightly so the agent could sit gingerly beside him, wrap an arm around his shoulders and kiss him on the forehead. "I did miss you, you know. Fury didn't think it was wise to contact you right away."

     Clint- _damn my arm_ \- snorted and kissed Phil, winding his fingers into his short brown hair. "Maybe I should talk with Fury."

     "And have him break your other arm?"

     "I'd like to see him try."


End file.
